Poppy's Heart
by Fancy-Hart
Summary: Written for Y5 House Competition. Prompt : Poppy (Character). Who is Poppy Pomfrey to the students? Warning: Dumbledore- bashing


Team: Eagles

Class: Potions,

Story: Standard

Prompt: Poppy Pomfrey [Character]

Word Count: 1046

For the First Year students she was a mother figure, someone to kiss their scraped knees, dry their eyes and make them feel better. She was even known to perform minor surgery on the odd stuffed animal. To date, her most impressive surgery was saving a baby badger that had been concealed in the robe pocket of a first year Hufflepuff, who, along with his badger, had been doused in "liquid fire" potion during a mishap with an upturned cauldron. That badger had come to her in seven pieces and sans one eye - he left with merely a scar over his left paw - which coincidentally matched his owner's bandages.

For the Second Years she was stricter. They had been here a year now and should be more aware of the dangers of magic both in and out of the classroom. She had a stricter tongue and was quicker to "tsk" at them when their injuries were decidedly avoidable. But still a soft hand against a fever-damp forehead, or soft words of empathy and sympathy could be found.

For the Third Years she became a confidant, the one to give them the dreaded "talk"; indeed it did take some pupils a good few months to be able to look her in the eye once again after _that_ particular conversation.

The Fourth and Fifth Years knew her door was open for not only mending potions and injuries from Quidditch accidents, but also mending hearts and a gentle reminder that they were just one heartache closer to their happily ever afters.

Sixth Years came to her when fear took over, as they pondered what was next after they left the hallowed halls. She did what she could for them, reassuring them and offering whatever guidance she could, explaining that they had their whole lives to discover who they were, and it was perfectly normal for one to change careers two or even three times in their lifetime.

The Seventh years came to her in tears. Happy, sad, confused, embarrassed - she had seen every type of tear shed in her little office. Happy that they had achieved the grades they needed, sad to be leaving her and other much loved professors and friends behind. She soothed their fears with talks of the big adventures they would be embarking on, and telling them the castle would always allow her babies to come back for a visit. She never let on that the majority of students didn't return until their own children began at the school, that they got caught up in life and jobs.

Every student that passed through the school had in some way placed their hand prints on her heart. She had been there long enough to have cared for generations of the same families. But there were a few students that had left not only their hand prints, but scars on her heart.

She would never forget the day she realised the kind of home Severus Snape had come from, the arguments she had had with Dumbeldore, when she had screamed her throat raw, her face red in anger and frustration at him. The man who was supposed to protect all students, supposed to care for them and he had no reaction to her, remaining infuriatingly calm. She was forbidden from doing anything to help the young Slytherin, and felt her heart break just a little when he returned to the school after every holiday. He might not have had any bruises to show his trauma, but she could see it written on his features all the same. She was relieved when, ten years after leaving Hogwarts, he returned as a teacher. He was entirely too thin, with sallow skin and new scars, but he was here, he was where she could look after him, and he would begrudgingly let her, And as long as he remained in the castle, she could make sure that idiot of a headmaster didn't push him too far.

It was another five years after Severus returned before the second young man etched his signature on her heart. Harry Potter. She recalled with equal parts fondness and exasperation, the amount of energy she had spent on patching his father up after his many Quidditch accidents or pranks gone awry. It was sad to think of such a vibrant life snuffed out so soon. She knew who Harry was as soon as he was carried into her infirmary - a picture of James Potter; she didn't even need to see his mother's familiar eyes to know whose son he was. What did cause her to pause, was the familiarity of the injuries he possessed. She had known only one other child to enter her wing with such scars, both physical and mental. It burned her to think how adults could harm such innocence. She could feel animosity building toward Albus Dumbledore, the man who was seemingly more than happy to let children grow up in abusive households. Every time she saw the Headmaster, Severus or Harry, she had to fight herself not to intervene. "For the greater good" he would proclaim at each of her protests. He was a stubborn brute, but he was a powerful wizard with wicked intelligence and the fortune of being correct about almost everything. Dumbledore may be willing to do anything for the "greater good" but she was ready to do anything for _her_ children.

Poppy had never been married, and thus had no children. It wasn't through lack of desire, rather she had just never gotten around to it. Many in the medical and correctional fields were married to their job and had to be in order to maintain the long hours each day had for them. And because it took so much of one's heart and soul when working with people on the worst day of their lives, there was scarcely anyone who had enough left in them to maintain a solid relationship outside of their jobs. And in the end, she had no regrets. She might not have borne any children - but she had helped raise thousands upon thousands. Hogwarts may have been the unofficial home to countless witches and wizards from around the globe. But Poppy? Poppy Pomfrey was their mother.


End file.
